


Happy Ever After

by eclater



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Enchanted AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 15:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10993896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclater/pseuds/eclater
Summary: Enchanted AU in which Yuuri features as the blushing groom-to-be who is cruelly chucked out of Andalasia by the wicked witch/queen into a world where fairytales don't come true (i.e. NYC). Shenanigans ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

Once upon a time, in a magical kingdom known as Andalasia, there lived an evil queen. Selfish and cruel, she lived in fear that one day her stepson would marry, and she would lose her throne forever. And so, she did all in her power to prevent the prince from ever meeting the one special person with whom he would share a true love's kiss.

*

“It was such a wonderful dream! I can’t remember much, but we were dancing, and he was holding me so gently, like I was made of glass.” Yuuri closed his eyes and smiled, feeling the warmth of the afternoon sun that shone through the circular window above his desk. He could hear the birds singing in the trees.

His chipmunk friend, Phichit, considered him carefully. He’d been Yuuri’s friend for almost his entire lifetime and he immediately recognised the lovesick softness that washed over his features. 

“He sounds like a catch!” Phichit garbled through a mouth full of peanuts. “What did he look like?”

Yuuri sighed. The figure in his dream had been mostly obscured by some kind of shadowy darkness. “I wish I could properly remember what he looked like — I only got flashes of his face. But there was a moment where he looked at me so intently with these piercing blue eyes, I thought he was looking directly into my soul. And his lips—” Embarrassed, looked down at his hands in his lap, a light flush appearing on his cheeks. 

Phichit teasingly nudged him with a paw. “What about his lips? Did you kiss? Oh, I bet you did! Your Lover Boy probably pulled you into his strong, capable arms and smooched you all over!”

Yuuri dropped his arms from their graceful hold position and sighed deeply. It was just his luck really that he couldn’t even get a kiss from a handsome stranger in dream, let alone in real life. He was really starting to think that he’d die without ever having kissed another person. Phichit noticed Yuuri’s slumped shoulders and he scampered from the table up Yuuri’s body until he was nuzzling the crook of his neck. 

Yuuri began to sing, his voice soft and melodic in the still air. “I’ve been dreaming of a true love’s kiss. And a prince I’m hoping comes with this…” His eyes brimmed with hot tears. God, he was pathetic. 

“Don’t cry, Yuuri.” Phichit whispered soothingly. “You’ll find the man of your dreams some day.”

But their tender moment is almost immediately interrupted when the room is suddenly thrown into darkness and a large eyeball fills the window. For a moment Yuuri stands completely still, his mouth gaping open, until his brain catches up with the situation and he realises that he’s gawping at the eye of a huge troll that probably wants to eat him as a pre-dinner snack. He shakily backs towards the door before breaking into a run.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” The troll growled, picking the roof off of the house. “I supposed to eat you!”

Yuuri clattered down the stairs and out of the door into the forrest. He ran as fast as he could, cheeks flushed and chest heaving as he weaved through the trees. Phichit trailed a few metres behind him as the troll began to stomp after them, shaking the ground with each heavy step. Eventually he came to one of the tallest trees in the forest that stood above even the troll’s head and he scrambled up it, Phichit following closely behind. Yuuri was high in the branches when the troll began to clumsily climb the trunk of the tree, grasping at the branches and pulling himself higher and higher.

Yuuri could feel the panic rising, his breath coming in quick shuddering breaths. His body felt numb, but he tried to fight down his anxiousness and crawled further up the branch.

“Boy yummy!” The troll bellowed, bearing sharp yellowed teeth.

The shout surprised Yuuri and he jolted. Slipping from his crouching position, he was barely hanging on to the branch from a single sweaty hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, fearing the worst. He could either get pinched by a troll and eaten alive, or he would fall the several metres towards the earth and die on impact. Yuuri wasn’t sure which one was worse.

Phichit, catching up with his friend, ran along the branch which bent beneath his weight. He looked down at his bulging, furry gut. “Wow, I gotta lay off the nuts…”

The troll was now crawling up the branch Yuuri was hanging from, grinning wickedly. Yuuri could smell the stench of his breath as he inched closer. Phichit desperately tried to grab at Yuuri’s fingers to help him back up, but his hand slid from his grip.

“Yuuri!” Phichit screamed after Yuuri.

Yuuri fell from the top of the tree, arms flailing in the air as though he was grasping for something to break his fall. As he waited to feel the crushing impact of his body hitting the ground, he failed to notice his friend and the troll catapulted off into the distance as the tree snapped back upright. After several seconds that stretched like minutes, Yuuri realised that he’d stopped falling, but that he was alive and none of his bones appeared to be broken. He slowly blinked his eyes open to find that he was being held in the arms of none other than Prince Edouard of Andalasia! 

“It’s you.” The prince said simply.. Yuuri had always heard that the prince was very handsome, but none of that could have prepared him for the sight of the man himself, cradling him in his muscular arms while mounted on a white steed. 

“Yes, it’s me.” Yuuri whispered.

The prince’s smile was dazzling. “I heard you singing earlier, and I just had to follow it. Your voice is almost as beautiful as you are.”

Yuuri flushed an embarrassingly deep shade of red and he hid his face in Prince Edouard’s shoulder. The prince only chuckled at his bashfulness.

“Oh, my Yuuri, we shall be married in the morning!” Prince Edouard beamed.

Yuuri snapped his head up in surprise and stared at Prince Edouard. Was he serious? The actual crown prince of Andalasia wanted to marry _him_?! But they’d only just met… Yuuri considered the man who’d just proposed to him after less than a minute of conversation. He had long, thick brown hair that shone in the sun and Yuuri could feel the firmness of his chest beneath his regal outfit. 

Prince Edouard launched into an enthusiastic reprisal of Yuuri’s song: “You’re the fairest man I’ve ever met, you were made…”

An odd part of Yuuri’s brain noted that his eyes were a deep shade of hazelnut brown, and not piercing blue like the man from his dream. But then he thought of his mum and dad, struggling to keep their onsen business afloat and he thought about how being married to a prince could change all of their lives. And besides, Prince Edouard was clearly not only a beautiful man, but kind and courageous too. And surely it could only have been the stars themselves that brought them together in such strange circumstances...

“… To finish your duet.” Yuuri sang back. Prince Edouard gave Yuuri another one of his charming princely smiles and helped him into a sitting position.

“You know, Yuuri, my companion Georgi over here tried to stop me from pursuing you.” Prince Edouard gestured at a man sat astride a black stallion a few metres away from them looking decidedly on edge. “But I ignored him and honestly,” he paused to give Yuuri a light squeeze around the waist, “I’m glad I did because it meant that I could meet you. My one true love.”

Prince Edouard took the reins and his steed began to gallop towards the horizon. Yuuri relaxed back into his chest and smiled softly to himself. Butittle did they know that Queen Anya was watching their warped figures in the curved glass of her gazing ball from the darkness of the palace dungeons.

“Oh, so this is the little forest rat who thinks she can steal my throne.” Queen Anya smiled darkly. “Never!”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of Yuuri and Edouard's wedding. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so hi! i'm v sorry for taking so long with updating. between going out a hell of a lot, moving out of my uni accommodation, a trip to paris and the general election - not to mention sitting around and staring into space - i haven't had a lot of time to think about this fic. but i promise i'm not going to just abandon it! i hope the fact that this chapter is longer than the first redeems me somewhat. i will also endeavour to maintain at least biweekly (as in once every two weeks) updates.

Yuuri wakes up to the sound of aggressive banging on the cottage door. He rubs his eyes and fumbles for his glasses before groggily sitting up in bed. It’s only when the banging resumes that he realises what day it is.

“Shit!” Yuuri curses. Today is his wedding the day. The day he is due to marry the crown prince of Andalasia. And he’s almost certainly slept through his alarm because he's been woken up by insistent rapping on his front door instead of the shrill beeping of his alarm clock.

“Yuuri!” Yuuri recognises Sara’s voice calling from the front of the cottage. His sleep-muddled mind vaguely recalls a conversation he’d had with Edouard the night before about getting the royal MUA, Sara, to do Yuuri’s hair and makeup for the wedding. “You were meant to have come round to mine an hour ago dressed in your suit and ready to go!”

Panic rises in Yuuri’s throat and he glances at his bedside clock. It’s already 10:30am. He has half an hour before his wedding is due to start and he’s still in pyjamas. He throws his covers off onto the floor and sprints down the creaking wooden staircase. He throws the door open, panting. Sara raises an arched eyebrow.

“Sara, I’m so sorry- I- I overslept and-” Yuuri stuttered, ducking his head.

Sara couldn’t stop her mouth from twitching into an amused smile. She’d marched to his cottage more than ready to give him a piece of her mind for not showing up on time, but it's almost impossible to stay mad at a sweetheart like Yuuri. His tardiness might have thrown some of her more elaborate plans out of the window, but there was a reason why the royal family paid her so handsomely to work exclusively for them. There was no one in all of Anadalasia who was better with a makeup brush and she was determined to make Yuuri look good, even if she only had about ten minutes to do it in.

“Right, Yuuri.” Sara claps her hands together. “I want you to grab your shirt, suit and shoes and quickly run down to the baths for a wash. But keep it perfunctory, okay? You’re not to spend more than 5 minutes in there. Then, I need you to get dressed and come back here ASAP so I can get on with your makeup and maybe see about styling your hair. Are you with me?"

Yuuri still looked slightly panicked but there was a look of determination in his eyes when he nodded and rushed back up the stairs to his room to grab his wedding outfit out of his wardrobe. Seconds later, he Sara watches him clatter back down again and out of the door. Letting out a breath, Sara walks into the kitchen and sets her makeup box on the oak table.

Around ten minutes later, Yuuri bursts back into the cottage breathing a little heavily, his hair slightly damp but otherwise fully dressed and ready for Mila’s final touches. As he nervously walks into the kitchen, Sara can't stop her mouth from dropping open slightly. Even without her styling and makeup skills, Yuuri looked  _good_ and he was almost unrecognisable from the boy she’d forced out of bed just minutes ago. He was wearing a navy wool three-piece suit paired with a wine-red paisley tie, a crisp white shirt, and brown leather shoes. The suit had been tailored to perfection and subtly accentuated his narrow waist and strong thighs. _Edouard is a very lucky man_ , Mila thinks to herself.

Mila gestures for Yuuri to sit down in the chair next to her that she’d angled to face her own. Yuuri was lucky to have been blessed with good skin, strong bone structure and bold brows, so she didn't have to worry about applying a full face of makeup. Deciding to focus on Yuuri’s eyes, she selects a soft, round brush to apply some dark brown eyeshadow beneath his eyes, blending in a rich, highly pigmented copper towards his tear ducts and adding some gold liquid liner for definition. Then after swiftly curling his thick lashes, Mila adds a touch of mascara to really make his eyes pop. Once she's satisfied with Yuuri’s eye makeup, she stands up to walk behind him and gently comb his hair back and with a bit of gel, she manages to get it neatly slicked back. If Yuuri had looked good before, he looked like some kind of god now with just a touch of makeup to bring out his features. To finish, Mila quickly dabs some tinted lipgloss onto his lips and slips the twisted gold diadem onto his crown.

“Take a look at yourself.” Mila smiles and passes Yuuri a hand mirror.

Yuuri is pleasantly surprised when he admires his own reflection. Mila had spent less than ten minutes on him, but he'd never looked better. He pulls her into a tight hug, breathlessly thanking her for her work.

“You’re welcome, Yuuri. Now,” Mila takes a look at the watch on her wrist, “you have around 7 minutes to get to the palace before you’re late for your own wedding. Edouard might cut you a little slack because you’re his groom-to-be, but really it’s for the best that you don’t make yourself the first man — or woman, for that matter — to make him wait.”

“Of course!” Yuuri leaps up and rushes out of the door where a horse and carriage is waiting. He climbs in with the help of the foot soldier and the horse takes off at a gallop. Within minutes, he's standing at the foot of the entrance to the palace. The man driving the carriage takes off with the foot soldier, leaving Yuuri alone. With all of the rushing of the last 20 minutes or so and the euphoria of seeing himself transformed, Yuuri hadn’t had the time to really think about what he was doing. But in that moment, looking up at the palace doors, all of those intrusive thoughts he'd so far managed to keep at bay hit him all at once. What if Prince Edouard had changed his mind? Yuuri knew it hadn't even been a whole twenty-four hours since the prince had proposed to him, but it would be an understatement to say that he was the most eligible bachelor in the entire kingdom and could very easily have anyone he wanted. What reason could he possibly have for wanting to marry Yuuri? He was the plain, chubby, shy son of bathhouse owners. His mum, dad and sister couldn’t even afford to take the day off to come to his wedding because money was so tight at the moment. Surely Edouard could do so much better than someone like him?

Suppressing his need to cry, Yuuri begins to run up the steps towards the ornate doors of the palace. He was so wrapped up in his own head that he failed to notice the crooked old lady he was hurtling towards before it was too late and barrelled straight into her.

Yuuri squeaks in surprise and horror. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking because I’m in such a rush— I need to get to Prince Edouard for our wedding, and—”

“Worry not, my child.” The old lady smiles, revealing a sharp set of catlike teeth. “Prince Edouard would be happy to wait for such a handsome groom!”

Yuuri blushes faintly at the praise, but his eyes dart towards the door. He's about to make a swift but polite exit when the old lady takes hold of his wrist with a leathery hand. 

“Granny has a gift for you, sweetheart,” she croons, and before Yuuri can protest, she leads him away from the palace doors with a surprisingly firm grip for such a fragile-looking woman. She takes him to the well just beyond the gravel drive. It's about a quarter full with water that is almost pearlescent, shimmering and swirling as though it were charmed. “You must make a wish!” The old lady insists, coaxing a nervous Yuuri closer to the edge of the well. “A wish made on one’s wedding day is the most magical wish of them all!”

Reluctantly, Yuuri leans over the edge of the well and closes his eyes. Protesting any more would probably only hold him up further and it would be much quicker for him to just make a wish and get rid of the woman. But before he can open his eyes, she shoves him hard and Yuuri loses his footing, falling deep into the darkness of the well. 

And just like that, the old lady’s glamour begins to dissolve and her body morphs. Her skin becomes more taught and her hair turns from white into silky black waves. The old woman was Queen Anya all along. “Speciocus, formosus, praeclarus!” Swirling shapes of vivid greens and purples fill the air as the queen casts her spell. Yuuri can hear her distantly and he braces himself for a splash into the water that surprisingly never comes. After a moment, Yuuri realises that he's no longer falling, and when he looks up he cannot see the light at the top of the well. Instead, he is surrounded by absolute darkness that is only broken by the dancing specks of light that seem to fly around him and cling to his skin. Blindly, he tries to feel around in the dark for some kind of exit or object or anything at all when he feels something cold like metal below him. He pushes it hard and and it shifts, revealing some kind of opening. Disorientated, Yuuri emerges from this hole. He's surrounded by noise and bright lights and it quickly becomes apparent that he is no longer in Anadalasia.

Scrambling to get off of the tarmac road, Yuuri tries to brush off the dust (and is that _glitter_?) from his suit. Suddenly, he can hear the cacophonous sound of a horn beeping and he jolts around to see a yellow taxi screeching to a halt inches away from him. 

“Get out of the street, you idiot!” The taxi driver yells out of the window.

Yuuri was starting to panic again as he bolted across the street, ignoring the heckles from the drivers who had to break hard to prevent themselves from hitting him. He rushes along the sidewalk, frantically trying to ask anyone who looks his way for directions to the palace, but no one ever stops and most people look at him like he’s lost his mind. He walks and walks and walks, turning different ways at every intersection and weaving through the foreign city. After what seems like hours of him dragging his feet, Yuuri ends up on an empty street in a run-down part of town. Sirens wail in the distance and Yuuri spots a homeless man slumped by the doorway of a closed shop, warming his hands by a garbage can that he'd set alight. Desperate for some kind of company — any company — Yuuri tentatively walks towards the man.

“May I sit with you?” He asks politely. The man simply grunts in reply. Yuuri takes this as a sign of approval, so he sits on the dirty step next to him.

“I’m very tired and very scared.” Yuuri confesses and the words come easily because he realises that he’s been desperate to tell someone what he’s been going through for hours. “I’ve never been this far away from home before, and I have no idea where I am. All night, people have pushed me and shoved me and shouted at me and all I’m asking for is a little show of kindness…” Yuuri’s voice begins to break. The old man smiles at him sympathetically and Yuuri has never been so grateful for such a small gesture. Only the old man isn’t really smiling at him, he’s smiling at the delicate and very expensive-looking golden circlet on top of his head and before Yuuri has a chance to realise what’s happening, the old man has snatched his circlet from his head and is running off into the night.

Yuuri shouts desperately after him “No! Please! I need that for my wedding! Stop!”

And as if things weren’t already bad enough, the heavens open and fat droplets of rain fall from the sky. Yuuri is soaked and shivering within minutes and the need to cry bubbles up within him. But he fights back the tears because he realises, practically, that wherever he is right now, it must be getting late, and he's unlikely to get back to Andalasia tonight so he ought to find some shelter. But in this hellish concrete jungle, there are no nearby meadows or hollow trees for him to hide in and very quickly, the tears he’d tried to hold back were welling up again in his eyes. This place must be miles and miles away from his home and his family. Miles and miles away from his fiancé. Hot tears slip down Yuuri’s cheeks and he finds himself marching up the street without thinking. He doesn’t stop until he walks into a metal post. Glancing up, he sees a giant billboard with a picture of a castle on it. Although its garish pink façade is nothing like the sophistication of the Andalasian palace, there’s something about it that reminds him of home and where he’s meant to be. So he manages to climb up the pole to the small platform in front of the billboard and sits. The rain is still pelting down and his clothes are drenched, the cold seeping into his bones, but he can barely feel it. He feels numb. At least up here, he somehow feels closer to Edouard and home. And no one can bother him from ten feet above the ground, either.

*

“A plain black unitard.” Yuri holds the material in his hands and looks at Viktor blankly.

It takes all of Viktor’s self-control not to roll his eyes and snatch the gift back. After a long day at work witnessing his client bicker with her soon-to-be ex-husband over their divorce settlement, the last thing he needed was to be stuck in the back seat of a taxi with his petulant younger brother. He shows none of this, of course, because Yuri is just your typical rebellious teenage boy and Viktor shouldn’t take his tiredness and frustration out on him. After all, the poor boy’s been through enough in his life. Viktor instead gives him his best congenial smile (although if you look closely, his pearly-white grin looks more like an animal bearing its teeth).

“I know it’s not the leopard print crop top you wanted, Yura,” his tone is only pseudo-apologetic, “but if you wore something like that to the studio, Lilia would probably have a heart attack. And we can’t afford that, especially since she’s agreed to choreograph your free skate routine for next season.”

Yuri shoves the unitard into his bag and grumbles. Viktor can tell that he secretly doesn’t mind it. He knows that the colour on Yuri’s current unitard is starting to wash out and that he’s been wanting to replace it for a while, but dancewear isn’t cheap — especially for a fifteen year old with no time to earn a bit of money on the side. Viktor’s about to ask him about his evening ballet class with Lilia when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. It’s Chris.

“Allô ?”

“Bonjour, mon cher. Tu veux encore que je passe demain ?” Chris’ voice is warm down the line and Viktor gives a small but genuine smile. He can always rely on his boyfriend to keep him grounded.

“Oui ! A sept heure et demie ?”

“D’accord. Tu es avec lui maintenant ?”

“Ouais — je t’appellerai plus tard. A plus” Viktor hits the end call button.

“That was Chris.” He explains for Yuri’s benefit.

Yuri is bent over his iPhone, scrolling through Instagram. “I’m not an idiot, Viktor. Who else do you speak French to?”

“Yura…” Viktor takes a deep breath, heart thrumming in anticipation of what he’s about to say. “I’m going to ask Chris to marry me.”

The shock announcement is enough to make Yuri tear his eyes away from the screen of his iPhone 6. He gawks at Viktor, lost for words for just a moment before his brain catches up with something sharp to say. “So you’re telling me that I’m going to have to put up with _another_ old man trying to tell me what to do all the time? Isn’t it enough that I’m already getting bossed about by you?”

Viktor is fairly sure that Yuri’s saying all of this to cover up his shock at the fact that Viktor had finally decided he would pop the question. Chris has been in Viktor’s life for more than a decade in some way or another and they’ve been dating seriously for five years now, so a proposal from either of them is long overdue. Nevertheless, Viktor plays along and pleads to his younger brother a little. “But you do like him, right? It’s so important to me that you two get along. I love Chris and I love you.” Yuri scowls at the affection. “So I’ve invited him over tomorrow morning so he can take you to school and get to know you a bit better. Just the two of you.”

Viktor expects Yuri to come back with another acerbic response, but he’s greeted with silence. He turns to Yuri who’s staring out of the window, squinting. Yuri suddenly jolts upright with raised eyebrows. “Holy sh-”

“Yura, mind your language! What is it?”

Even though the window is covered in droplets of rain from the earlier downpour, Yuri can still make out a man in a suit, curled up on himself, sat on top of a billboard. “Stop the car — there’s this crazy sat up on the Castle billboard.”

The taxi driver actually stops the vehicle and Viktor's about to tell him to drive on and ignore his younger brother — after all, who’s paying the fare? — when Yuri throws the car door open and jumps out onto the curb. 

“Yura! Get back here! He could be dangerous!” Viktor calls out after Yuri, but he’s already there, stood below the billboard. Honestly, this kid…

Viktor asks the driver to wait and he shifts across the back seat to get out from the door nearest to the sidewalk. He follows after Yuri who’s staring up at the strange man.

“Hey! Freak!” Yuri cups his hands around his mouth and shouts. “What are you doing up there, man? Are you crazy or something?”

The man slowly raises his head and peers down at the angry blond kid stood below him. Had he finally found someone who was willing to acknowledge him in a not entirely antagonistic way in this scary and frankly awful place? “Please, can you help me? Just wait for me to get down from here.” He calls out, and he attempts to climb down. But the metal frame is slippery from the rain and his foot skids off of the pipe he'd used to climb up with, leaving both of his feet dangling in the air and him hanging on to the small platform by his fingertips.

“Viktor! He’s slipping! You’ve got to catch him!” Yuri turns round desperately to his older brother. Viktor has about half a second to appreciate this brief crack in Yuri’s usually consistent punk-like attitude. It’s short-lived because a moment later, he catches himself running closer to the billboard to position himself under the man who’s about to fall ten feet towards the concrete sidewalk. It’s seconds before this man’s fingers slip from the platform and he’s falling towards Viktor. Next thing he knows, he’s on the floor with this man half on top of him, half in his arms and groaning from falling so hard on the ground. After a few moments of just lying there and breathing, the two men slowly get to their feet and this is the first opportunity Viktor has to get a look at the man he’s just saved. His hair is loosely slicked back, his lips are plump and glossy and his eyes are big and brown. Even his suit, though drenched and (bizarrely) covered in glitter, clings to his body in all of the right places. In short, he’s stunning.

“Are you okay?” Viktor tries to keep it cool and not get lost in the stranger’s warm brown eyes

He stares at Viktor for a moment, blushing lightly before speaking. “I’m fine, thank you.” He gives a small smile that somehow lights up his whole face. Viktor’s convinced that he’s looking at some kind of urban siren.

“What were you doing up there?”

The man looks embarrassed. “I… uh- it’s difficult to explain. But basically, I’ve been walking around for ages looking for help because I’m lost, but everyone else I’ve spoken to so far has been so mean to me…” Now he looks on the verge of tears, and Viktor feels strangely protective.

“Is there anyone I could call for you?”

The man frowns “I don’t think they’d be able to hear you from here.”

What?! Was that meant to be a joke? Viktor assesses the man’s face. He looks sincere. Does he not understand how mobile phones work? Viktor could laugh — all he wanted to do was take his kid-brother home from ballet class and collapse on his sofa, but here he is talking to this handsome but loopy stranger on the sidewalk a few blocks away from home. He glances at Yuri who seems to be having difficulty processing all of this himself and comes to the conclusion that all of this is on him as the sane adult in the situation. He turns back to the stranger, catching him staring. Embarrassed, the guy shoots his head away and looks at the pavement like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

“So… what’s your name then? Mine is Viktor. Viktor Nikiforov.” He gestures at Yuri “And this is my little brother Yuri.”

The stranger laughs, albeit a little hesitantly. “What a coincidence — my name is Yuuri too!”

Yuri is completely outraged by this and is about to express his anger when a pointed look from his brother shuts him up. “It’s almost as though we were meant to meet, Yuuri! Listen,” Viktor pauses because he’s not sure that he should say what he’s about to say, “you can come back with ours, dry yourself off a little bit and call someone to help you, if you want.” Yuuri beams.

So they all head back to the car and Yuuri gets in at the front besides the driver while Yuri and Viktor return to their seats in the back. While they travel the last few blocks to the apartment, Yuuri explains the precise nature of his predicament and babbles on about witches and magic and talking animals and a botched wedding.

“… So Edouard is going to come to rescue me, and we’ll finally share our true love’s kiss!”

The taxi pulls up in front of the building and Viktor hands the driver a twenty dollar bill before they all get out. He catches a slightly horrified look on Yuri’s face. They might have just bitten off more than they can chew by bringing this crazy man back to their home.

Regardless, Viktor leads the way back into the apartment and invites Yuuri to take a seat on the couch. Yuri slinks off to his bedroom. 

“Let’s see about getting you a car, then.” Viktor says half to himself. As he goes off in search of the taxi rank number on their fridge, Yuuri ends up curling up on the sofa, yawning and struggling to keep his droopy eyelids propped open. By the time Viktor comes back with the phone, Yuuri’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing lightly.

“Oh, come on!” It’s one thing for Viktor to let Yuuri come back with him, but it’s another completely for him to crash out on his couch. This will not do. Viktor rapidly dials the number for the taxi company and puts the receiver to his ear. “Yeah, hi? I would like to book a car at 116th and Riverside, please.”

“Your destination, sir?”

Viktor looks at Yuuri’s sleeping face and the way his chest slowly rises and falls. He ends the call. Cursing himself for being such a pushover, he walks to the airing cupboard to grab a spare blanket and a few pillows. He throws the blanket over Yuuri’s curled up body and gently props up some of the pillows behind his head before leaving the room and turning off the light.

*

Yuuri dreams again that night of a man with grey hair. But this time he has other distinguishable features. His eyes are tired but a brilliant blue that reminds Yuuri of the ocean in his hometown. His skin is almost as pale as alabaster but he has a light flush on his nose. He is tall and has a broad frame that fills out his dark grey suit. Yuuri falls and falls and falls but he feels the warmth beneath this man’s clothes when he catches him. _Are you okay?_ he asks. _What were you doing up there?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are starting to get Juicy. a few notes:
> 
> 1\. here's the translation of viktor and chris' telephone conversation*
> 
> "Hello?"
> 
> “Hello, my dear. Do you still want me to come by tomorrow?” 
> 
> “Yes! At half seven (AM)?”
> 
> “Cool. Are you with him now?”
> 
> “Yeah — I will call you later. See you soon”
> 
> *(i've studied french for a while, so the french should be at least fairly accurate. the tone is meant to be quite familiar and informal. if anyone's native/sees obvious errors in what i've written, hmu)
> 
> 2\. as an english person, i tend to go for british english in almost all instances, but i've found myself wanting to use americanisms in this chapter, since we move to the big apple. but i know that the likelihood is that i'm using some kind of ungodly mixture of the two dialects, so let me know if the inconsistency is noticeable/jarring.
> 
> 3.
> 
>  
> 
> [this](https://www.moss.co.uk/blazer-performance-tailored-fit-navy-mix-and-match-jacket-965295309)
> 
>  
> 
> is the reference i used for yuuri's wedding outfit and
> 
>  
> 
> [this](https://img1.etsystatic.com/108/0/5428914/il_fullxfull.851138255_l5js.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
> is the kind of thing i was imagining for yuuri's circlet.
> 
> as always, would love to hear what you think! peace and love x
> 
> edit: so i realised today that i'd somehow neglected to copy over the paragraph where mila ACTUALLY does yuuri's makeup, so i've just added that in. if any of you guys notice any huge errors like this, or smaller ones like lil grammar errors, please let me know! and in general, any criticism - as long as it's constructive and not some kind of vitriolic attack on my character - is just as welcome as praise. i want to write better stuff for you guys! (that being said, the kind comments are also so encouraging and make this all feel worthwhile - so thank you for those, too <3)


	3. Chapter 3

It’s the sound of a plate smashing on the kitchen tiles that drags Yuri out of a peaceful slumber. He rubs his eyes and groans, blinking into the morning light that streams through his blinds. So much for those last ten minutes of sleep.

Looking a little more 150 years old than 15, Yuri slowly creaks out of bed and pads towards the kitchen, ready to give his dumbass older brother a piece of his mind. But as he walks towards the main room of the apartment, he notices that everywhere is… really clean. Like, showroom-in-a-property-magazine, not-lived-in clean. Which is definitely not what it looked like when Yuri left Viktor in the lounge last night. Yuri’s so taken aback by the way the glass coffee table glistens that he almost doesn’t catch the flash of black in his peripheral vision. Whipping his head round, Yuri spots a lump of dark fur on the ground and a pair of beady black eyes meet his. It’s a rat. An actual living, breathing rat in their home. Yuri doesn’t even have time to properly freak about it, because he quickly realises that the rat is only one of a bunch of unwelcome guests currently residing in the apartment. There are pigeons cooing on the balcony, cockroaches and rats running across the hardwood floors and flies buzzing round the lights. A bunch of swears run through Yuri’s mind, but no sound comes out of his mouth. He simply stands and stares in absolute horror. Somehow, every kind of pest in all of Manhattan (and probably New Jersey and Long Island, too) had found away into his home. A few moments later, Yuri snaps out of it and starts yelling: “VIKTOR! VIKTOR! GET YOUR ASS UP!”

It takes a full minute, but Viktor’s door does eventually open a crack to reveal the man himself, bleary-eyed and donning a dressing gown with a cartoon poodle motif. “Yura, was is it?” Yuri doesn’t have to say anything though, because it doesn’t take long for Viktor’s sleep-addled brain to catch up.

“Oh my god! Yura, help me get them out of here!”

So for the next few minutes, Yuri and Viktor are shooing flies out of the window and chasing rats out of the front door. Well, Viktor does most of the work. Yuri mainly keeps his distance, watching the affair with caution before deciding that he would be safest back in his bedroom. There was no way he was going to get anywhere close to any of these filthy creatures. When the last of the menagerie is out of the apartment, Viktor slams the door shut and falls against it heavily. He’d always considered himself to be a morning person, but even he had his limits, and playing pest control before his first coffee of the day was just a step to far. 

In the renewed peace and quiet, Viktor gauges quiet singing coming from the shower. _Yuuri_. Viktor wouldn’t be surprised if Yuuri had some part in all of this chaos.

Viktor walks towards the bathroom and knocks on the door. He hears the water turn off and a few seconds later, Yuuri brightly beckons him in. Viktor’s geared up for confrontation — he welcomes this stranger into his home out of the kindness of his heart, and this is the thanks he gets for it? A load of vermin swarming around his apartment? It’s unacceptable! And how did Yuuri even manage it in the first place—

But when Viktor opens the door, he’s greeted by a very wet and very naked Yuuri and Viktor’s brain completely short-circuits. He steps out of the shower with his eyes closed, pushing his wet fringe off of his forehead. The way the water dripped down the hard planes of his abdomen in little rivulets had him looking every part the model in a Robert Mapplethorpe shoot. Or a physical manifestation of Viktor’s teenage wet dreams. Or both. Viktor was beginning to forget why he’d come in here in the first place.

Yuuri opens his eyes and smiles warmly at Viktor in greeting. “Good morning! Your magical water pump is amazing!” Yuuri gestures back at the shower as two pigeons — where the heck did they come from?! — flew towards him with the corners of a fresh towel in their mouths. Yuuri thanks them with sincerity as they fly out of the bathroom window and wraps the towel around his waist. “I woke up this morning and I realised that the apartment was kinda messy,” Yuuri explains, picking up on Viktor’s confusion. “So I called in some friends to help me get things ship-shape — I hope you don’t mind.”

Viktor’s still too bewildered to say anything, so he just silently backs out of the room, Yuuri following him. But before they can both get clear of the doorway, Yuuri slips on a wet tile and falls forward. Naturally, he reaches out to Viktor for help and naturally, Viktor tries to catch him. Only Yuuri crashes into Viktor at force and they both end up going down, Yuuri landing on top of Viktor, straddling his lap, Viktor’s hands resting on his hips. Their eyes lock and Viktor can imagine how suggestive this position would look, but he makes no effort to push Yuuri away. Yuuri equally remains frozen, looming above Viktor with his arms braced either side of his head. In the intensity of the moment, neither of them hear the sound of the door unlocking and swinging shut or the footsteps heading towards them.

“Oh.” They both look up. It’s Chris. Viktor knows that he’s imagining the worst. He also knows that there’s no way he can possibly explain the truth in a way that his boyfriend is likely to believe.

“Viktor, qui est ce mec ?” Chris’ voice is low and even, but Viktor can tell that he’s quietly seething

Viktor scrambles to sit up, practically pushing Yuuri off of him. “C’est rien, il est juste un pote. Je promets.”

Yuuri, unable to understand whatever language this conversation is in, decides to introduce himself regardless. “Hi, my name is Yuuri.” He gets to his feet to offer Chris a hand to shake, but Chris icily declines. Ever the optimist, Yuuri goes on unfazed. “I was on my way to the castle to get married, but—“

“Il est marié ?” Chris’ eyes dart to Viktor.

Viktor slowly stands up. “Pas encore, il—”

“Pas encore? Qu’est-ce que ça veut dire ?” 

“Il était perdu — je voulais l’aider.”

“Quoi ? Il avait besoin de l’aide pour trouver la salle du bain ?”

“Calme-toi, Chris, s’il te plaît. On doit se parler.”

Being told to calm down was apparently the last straw. Chris looked back over at Viktor’s freshly-showered side piece. He wanted to slap the dopey grin off of his face.“Talk about what, Viktor?” Chris switched to English. He wanted to make sure that Viktor’s guest understood every single word he had to say. “I have never stayed the night with you here, because we both agreed that there should be boundaries with your little brother around.” Chris laughs bitterly. “I thought you were being sensitive — I didn’t realise it was because you were worried about crowd control.”

Chris turns on his heels, ready to leave the apartment. Viktor desperately attempts to grab his arm, but he’s angrily shaken off. Chris turns to face Viktor one last time. “Tu m’a aimé jamais autant que je t’aime.” There’s pain in his eyes and his bottom lip is trembling. Before Viktor can try to stop him again, Chris has stormed out of the door, slamming it shut behind him. Viktor shoves his feet into a pair of trainers he has lined up at the door and grabs his keys before running out of the apartment and barrelling down the stairs to the foyer. He can see Chris on the other side of the street hailing a taxi and by the time he makes it out of the revolving doors, Chris’ car is pulling out into the early morning traffic. 

Like any normal couple, he and Chris had had their fair share of arguments, but never like this. Chris’ last words to him echo in his mind: _Tu m’a aimé jamais autant que je t’aime_. Viktor had always loved Chris deeply, even before they’d entered a romantic relationship; yet this ridiculous misunderstanding was enough to make Chris doubt that. Enough for Chris to leave like he had no intention of ever coming back. Yesterday, Viktor was planning on asking Chris to marry him and today it seemed like they were over, just like that. Viktor hadn’t felt so out of control of things since his parents died. He traipses back into the building feeling utterly dejected. If he hadn’t brought Yuuri into his home, none of this would have happened. As he climbs the stairs to his corridor, the feeling of loss is replaced with a simmering anger. By the time he opens the door to his apartment, he’s furious and ready to give Yuuri a piece of his mind for the second time that morning.

Only when he reaches the lounge, he finds Yuuri sprawled out on his sofa dressed in one of Viktor’s worn dress shirts from the washing hamper and nothing else. It’s a sight that completely throws Viktor off balance. It takes a moment for him to get past the fact that he’s faced with a scene straight out of a Playgirl centrefold and to remember his anger. _Focus, Viktor._  

“You’ve got to go. I don’t care whether you’re waiting for Prince Charming, or—”

“— Prince Edouard—”

“Whatever, I don’t care. I’ll help you get on a plane, a bus, a train — whatever you need to get out of here, and then that’s it.”

Yuuri frowns. “You’re unhappy with me, aren’t you.”

“Unhappy?” Viktor laughs with incredulity. “I’m more than unhappy. I’m angry. You ever heard of that particular unpleasant emotion?”’

Yuuri thinks about it. He’s never really _felt_ anger. He has seen other people experience it, though. Like Snow White’s fiery dwarf friend, for example. He has a real temper. Yuuri considers saying this, but he’s cut off before he has a chance to respond.

“I was just getting ready to take a very serious step forward with Chris. I’d planned to propose to him, actually. But now he’s got it into his head that you and I…”

“Kissed?” Yuuri gasps, scandalised at the prospect.

Viktor briefly thinks back to Yuuri’s wet, naked body hovering above him. “Yes, something like that.”

Yuuri seems deep in thought for a second. Then his face suddenly lights up. “You should sing to him! Pour your heart out to him in a beautiful ballad and then he’ll know for sure that you love him!”

Viktor really doesn’t know respond to that. Yuuri really is something special. After an awkward moment, he pulls his phone out of his dressing gown pocket to check the time and double-takes at how late it is. They all need to get ready and dressed as quickly as physically possible, otherwise Yuri is going to be late for homeroom and Viktor’s going to arrive at the office after his client does, which would be a disaster. He calls out to Yuri to get him to take his shower as he jogs into his room. After rummaging through a few of his draws, he finds a pair of jeans from his teenage years and a pair of boxers. He chucks both at Yuuri who accepts the offering with gratitude.  
Somehow, the three of them manage to get ready for the day in an impressive 20 minutes and it’s not long before they’re all in Viktor’s car, weaving through the traffic towards Yuri’s school. Viktor would prefer to commute by metro, but he feels bad about making Yuri take the late bus after he’d messed things up with his ride for the morning. When they finally arrive outside the school gates, Yuri is already 5 minutes late for homeroom and he’s not happy about it. It’s bad enough that he has to be dropped off at school like one of the loser freshmen, but it’s even worse that he’s late too — Mr. Cialdini was always a bitch about punctuality. Grabbing his bag off of the back seat, he hops out of the car and slams it shut without saying goodbye. Viktor sighs but he has no time to dwell on it — he’s already late for mediation with Phoebe and her husband _and_ he has to bring Yuuri along with him. Viktor steals a glance at Yuuri as they race towards the office. He’s silently gazing out of the window at the passing cityscape with a look of quiet we on his face and looking far too innocent for a man capable of ending someone else’s five year relationship in the space of three minutes.

When Viktor and Yuuri eventually make it into the firm’s reception, Viktor is so late, it’s beyond unprofessional. He rushes up to the front desk with Yuuri in tow to greet the main receptionist.

“Sara, please tell me Mrs. Banks isn’t already here.”

Sara stops typing and looks up from her screen to take in Viktor and his companion. As one of the firm’s rising stars among the associate ranks, he has a reputation for being cool and unshakable, but his silver hair isn’t quite as precisely coiffed and styled as usual today, so Sara knows that something is wrong. She mentions none of this out loud, of course. Secretaries are paid to notice things, not to aggravate the firm’s biggest fee-earners.

“Mrs. Banks is already here. She’s currently in the boardroom with Mr. Banks and his lawyer.”

Viktor winces. “Perfect. How long?”

Sara raises an arched eyebrow. “You don’t want to know.”

Viktor rubs his face like he’s trying to claw it off. “No, I don’t. Look, I need you to do something for me. See this guy?” He gestures over to Yuuri who seems to be enraptured by the goldfish swimming in the fish tank. “I need you to find out where he’s from and I need you to get him there. Make it cheap. His name is Yuuri.” Viktor’s already marching to the boardroom for his meeting. “Oh, and let me know if Chris tries to call.”

The door closes shut behind him and Sara and Yuuri are left alone in the foyer. Viktor’s mysterious friend is still admiring the goldfish with a childlike smile on his face and Sara’s not quite sure what to make of him. He’s wearing a shirt that’s way to big for him — one of Viktor’s, she notes — and a pair of ripped black skinny jeans that leave nothing to the imagination. He’s an attractive guy by all accounts, and if Sara were to guess, she’d say that he’d spent the night at Viktor’s apartment. But what about Chris? Viktor had spoken to her about their relationship on numerous occasions over after-work drinks and she was fairly sure that they were exclusive and getting serious. And yet, it really did seem as though Viktor had chosen to invite a hot stranger into his bed last night…

Sara is unexpectedly pulled out of her ambling chain of thought by the sight of Yuuri dunking a glass into the fish tank. “Yuuri! No! Put that down!”

Surprised, Yuuri turns to Sara and slowly puts the glass back down on the table sheepishly. Sighing inwardly, Sara beckons him over. “Yuuri, I’m going to get you home!”

*

“I think we might be close to agreeing on a settlement!” Viktor smiles genially at Phoebe. Neither she nor her husband look quite as pissed off as they usually do after these meetings, so Viktor’s counting that as a success. After his morning from Hell, things were starting to look up for Viktor. Now just to deal with the Yuuri situation once and for all. He excuses himself from his client and walks over to Sara.

“I’m sorry Viktor, I can’t help you.”

“What?” Viktor’s satisfied smile dissipates almost instantly.

Mila glances at Yuuri who’s currently sat on one of the leather sofas admiring the pictures in a copy of Time magazine. “He hasn’t got a driver’s licence or a passport. I’ve called every travel agent in the county, but not one of them has heard of this ‘Andalasia'.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “When I asked him where it was, he said it was ‘just beyond the Meadows of Joy and the Valley of Contentment’! He’s completely batshit!”

Viktor, in his despair, doesn’t notice when Yuuri gets up to approach his client and her husband. They’re walking towards the exit when Yuuri reaches out to touch Phoebe’s arm. “You are beautiful!”

Phoebe is a little put out but she smiles at the flattery nonetheless. “Well, thank you!”

Yuuri turns to Phoebe’s husband. “You are a very lucky man indeed! Just look at the way her eyes sparkle!”

“Excuse me?” He squares his shoulders and Phoebe’s face drops. There’s something in his slightly raised tone that catches Viktor’s attention, and one look at his client’s face and the way her husband’s jaw is set is enough to set off the alarm bells in his head. He rushes away from Sara’s desk to the group and practically drags Yuuri away from the upset couple.

Viktor shoots them them both an apologetic look before turning back to Yuuri. “Listen, Yuuri, that couple aren’t together anymore. They’re splitting up.”

Yuuri’s brow is furrowed with concern. “For how long?”

“Forever.”

“Forever and ever?”

 _Deep breaths, Viktor._ “Yes.”

Yuuri’s lip trembles a little and to Viktor’s surprise, he starts to cry. The light sobs are quiet, but Phoebe and her husband are close enough to hear him. Phoebe can’t believe she’s paying an extortionate amount of dollars for the privilege, too.

“Is he actually crying? This is so unprofessional!”

It’s at this exact moment that the managing partner of the firm, Carl, chooses to waltz into the office with a pastry and a Starbucks flat white. He greets Phoebe cheerily. “Good morning, Phoebe! How are you?”

In response, she points an accusatory finger in his face “If you guys are trying to manipulate us, we will throw the whole deal out!” She storms out of the office, her husband following close behind.

Carl turns to Viktor “What is going on here? You beg me to put you on this case and now everyone’s upset and our client is threatening to drop the case?”

Viktor can feel his chances of becoming the firm’s youngest junior partner slipping away from him. “I’ll take care of it, Carl, I swear.”

Pulling Yuuri’s arm, they walk out of the office into the afternoon sunshine. It’s a glorious day in the city, but Viktor’s in no mood to enjoy it. Without saying a word to Yuuri, he unlocks the car and slips into the drivers seat. Yuuri takes the hint and walks round to the passenger side, still sniffling. They pull off, Viktor gripping the steering wheel with both hands and they drive for several minutes in silence before he decides to speak.

“What happened back there, Yuuri?” 

“I was just upset seeing the two of them in so much pain. I can’t imagine splitting up from the person I love.”

Viktor thinks of Chris. “Well, life’s just like that sometimes. That’s reality”

“I wish I were back home in Andalasia.”

“I think I’d prefer that too.” Viktor’s voice is cold and flat, and perhaps he’s being a bit too harsh, but he really has reached the end of his tether. He pulls over to the curb just outside one of the entrances to Central Park. Viktor reaches into his pocket for his wallet, and counts out around $200 in $20 bills. He hands them over to Yuuri, who reluctantly pockets the money.

“I want you to take this money and go call your prince — whatever, I just need you to go.”

“Viktor?” Viktor tries to ignore the hurt confusion in Yuuri’s voice. 

“Please, just go.”

In a move Viktor doesn’t anticipate, he places a gentle hand on Viktor’s forearm and cups his face with the other. Viktor’s forced to look straight into his big brown eyes and the intimate gesture is far too much for him to handle right now. “I am truly sorry Viktor. You have been a very kind friend to me when I had none, and I would never want to make you unhappy or cause you any trouble, so…” he takes a shuddering breath, eyes shimmering with unshed tears “… I’ll go.” 

The brave smile Yuuri gives him breaks Viktor’s heart. “I wish you every happiness, Viktor.” And then he’s stepping out of the vehicle and walking through the wrought iron gates into the park.

Viktor knows that he’s done the right thing. He’d already done more than enough when he welcomed a complete stranger into his home. He’s even given Yuuri money in spite of the fact he’d crashed through his life like a wrecking ball tearing down everything Viktor had worked so hard to gain.

So why is it that he wants to get out of the car and tell Yuuri to come back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor vitya - two break-ups in one day :( a few notes for y'all:
> 
> 1) in case you didn't know, robert mapplethorpe is a really famous (and now deceased) photographer. he was a gay man from new york who took some phenomenal photographs, many of which were deeply homoerotic. i saw an exhibition of his work at the kunsthal in rotterdam last month, so i thought that i'd give him a shout out! if you aren't already familiar with his work, you should check it out, particularly if you're interested in queer art.
> 
> 2) a translation of the french bit:
> 
> "Viktor, who is this man?"  
> "This is nothing, he's just a friend. I promise."  
> ...  
> "He's married?"  
> "Not yet, he-"  
> "Not yet? What does that mean?"  
> "He was lost - I wanted to help him."  
> "What? He needed help finding the bathroom?"  
> "Calm down, Chris, please. We should talk."  
> ...  
> "You have never loved me as much as I have loved you"
> 
> so that's about it! i struggled a bit writing this chapter, but i hope you've all enjoyed it nonetheless! in the next chapter, we will get to see the return of a certain andalasian prince among other characters we've not seen for a while.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s typical, Phichit thinks, that Yuuri would be late for his own wedding. Some time yesterday evening in the animated last-minute wedding preparation, Prince Edouard suggested a prompt 11am start, keen to wed his beloved as quickly as possible. Phichit very nearly laughed in his face — anyone who’s familiar with Yuuri would know that he struggles to get out of bed before midday most of the time and calling for a morning wedding was really just asking for trouble. Of course, Phichit kept this to himself — Prince Edouard had the power to call any citizen, human or otherwise, to execution, so the shade just wasn’t worth it — but he did think about the validity of the wedding he was about to witness. Did they really know each other well enough to leap straight into marriage?

Phichit senses from the heightened anticipation in the room that it’s about time for the wedding to start but there’s so far no sign of Yuuri so far. Peering at the watch on the wrist of the man sat next to him, Phichit notes that it is 11:15. So Yuuri’s a little late, but that’s no big deal as long as he turns up soon. Phichit’s actually more concerned about his friend’s mental wellbeing. He knows how Yuuri’s anxiety can rear its ugly head at times, and the thought of going through a day like this where all eyes would be on him must be particularly difficult to deal with. Phichit had desperately wanted to be by his side to support him this morning, but he and the rest of Yuuri’s friends were under express orders from Mila to stay away from the cottage so as not to distract her from her work. And he could understand the logic, but it also meant that once her job was done, Yuuri would be sent off in the royal carriage alone with his thoughts. He could only hope and pray that Yuuri wasn’t out there somewhere stuck in his head and spiralling.

At the front of the hall, Prince Edouard looks even more worried than Phichit is feeling. He’s pacing back and forth with an agitated look on his face and clear tension in his frame. The priest who’s meant to be officiating the ceremony had attempted to calm him down but with little success. After what felt like an age, the oaken palace doors did eventually swing open, much to Phichit’s relief. At last, Yuuri had arrived! Better late than never… Only when Phichit turns around, it’s not his friend he sees at the door: it’s Queen Anya. She looks visibly distressed and not at all her usual calm and composed self. The hall falls pin-drop silent within seconds.

“Yuuri, he- he fell into the well!”

Quiet gasps fill the room. All eyes turn to the crown prince. Briefly, he drops his princely upright posture and he looks small, Phichit thinks, the bold epaulets on his jacket seeming too big for his shrinking frame. He sprints down the aisle towards the door.

“Mother, please, what happened?” He asks with urgency, gripping Queen Anya’s arms

She takes a steadying breath. “I was on my way to the palace when I saw him leaning over the well — I think he was making a wish? I don’t know. But then he must have leaned over too far, because he fell in! I ran over straight away and called out his name several times, but there was no response… I’m so sorry, Edouard.”

What is she implying? That Yuuri is… dead? Or at least unresponsive. Either way, Phichit’s best friend is at the bottom of 100 foot well with no obvious means of escape and this fact is seriously freaking him out. Queen Anya sympathetically rests a hand on her stepson’s shoulder, but he shakes her off immediately, bursting out of the palace doors at a run. The royal guards who were posted at the door follow close behind him in a tight formation. Phichit can’t force himself to sit still any longer — he leaps off of his seat and hurtles down the aisle, weaving his way around the feet of the more curious guests who are also making their way out of the palace.

By the time Phichit reaches the well, a crowd has formed around it including Prince Edouard, Queen Anya and a man Phichit recognises as Edouard’s royal attendant, Georgi. Edouard is shouting Yuuri’s name down the well but there’s no reply except for the echo of his own booming voice.

Queen Anya gently takes his hand “Edouard, I really am sorry, but I really don’t think there’s any point-”

Edouard shushes her, leaning a little further over the edge of the well and peering at the water.

“Mother… I think the water might be enchanted.”

Queen Anya laughs. “Enchanted? I know you’re upset, Edouard, but really?”

Phichit notes that there is the barest edge of hysteria creeping into her voice. It’s suspicious, if he’s being honest. Phichit highly doubts the queen is cut up over the (potential) loss of her almost-son-in-law — she hadn’t even clapped eyes on Yuuri before watching him fall down the well five minutes ago. And the way she keeps on shutting Edouard down and trying to pull him away from the scene of the crime is equally strange. Phichit eyes her with a furrowed brow. It’s a look he’s used on Yuuri on many an occasion to get information out of him and it’s had a very high success rate in previous interrogations. Not that anyone notices, of course, because Phichit is hardly taller than the blades of grass they’re standing on and stands a good metre and a half below her eyeline. 

In a move that surprises everyone, including Phichit, Edouard unsheathes his sword and raises it high above his head. The metallic sound of the blade being pulled from his scabbard silences the crowd.

“Mother, please. I am going after my fiancé. No matter what has happened, I want to find him at least.” He declares, addressing the Queen and the crowd of wedding guests in equal measure.

Phichit isn’t sure how successful a rescue mission this could be. Edouard hopping into the well after Yuuri would probably just mean more bodies floating about in the water, sword or no sword, but he can’t help but admire the young prince’s bravery and willingness to help his friend. Queen Anya on the other hand looks even more distressed.

“Edouard, no! It’s too dangerous — I don’t want to lose you!”

And though she’s been acting strangely, Phichit has to agree with her on this point — it _is_ too dangerous, especially if the water is enchanted as Edouard suggests. Who knows what might happen once he makes contact with it if it does have magical properties. This, however, does not faze Edouard: steeling himself, he takes a few calculated steps back from the edge of the well before launching into a run-up. Phichit realises that the prince is about to launch himself head first (or rather sword first) into the well and in a split-second, he makes the decision to go with him. Grabbing a fistful of Edouard’s trousers as he bounds towards the well, Phichit clings on for dear life as the two of them go airborne and fall into the darkness of the well.

*

Back in her palace chambers, Queen Anya bends down to undo the straps on her stilettos and kicks the shoes off at the doorway. It’s barely lunchtime, yet she’s exhausted already. It’s been an eventful morning. Having to run into the palace and lie about what she’d witnessed at the well less than a minute after pushing Yuuri in there herself had been a challenge. She knows that she’s a convincing liar, but all the same she had a niggling doubt in her mind that even if her dim-witted stepson didn’t see through her acting, some meddlesome guest among the hundreds present might. They didn’t, of course — Anya knew how to put on a good show — but then noble, wholesome, courageous Edouard couldn’t just let it lie.

When her son had fallen into the well without an audible splash, there was a shocked murmuring among the guests. Now all of them knew that the well was enchanted.

Anya expertly feigned surprise. “Oh my goodness, Edouard was right! The water must be enchanted!” And then she let her face drop and her breaths quicken. “And now I don’t know how we can possibly get him back.” She looked like she was on the verge of tears. The crowd looked on with sympathy. The idiots…

And Anya thought her job was done, that the crowd would disperse and she would be able to head back to the palace for a glass of wine or two, knowing that her stepson and his beau were out of her hair. Only some wrinkly old man decides to pipe up and ruin her plans.

“I’ve seen this kind of thing before…” His voice is croaky and he speaks so goddamn slowly, Anya has to internally fight herself from rolling her eyes. “I believe that this well is a portal to another realm.”

The crowd gasps and there’s more murmuring. It’s more animated than before and Anya can hear whispers of evil-this, wicked-that and suggestions of foul play. The old man continues: “Edouard is now probably wherever his beloved Yuuri is.”

Anya knows this. It was her plan to send Yuuri away in the first place. But she has to play along. “Really? Who would do such a thing?”

The old man says nothing, only inclining his head a few degrees and shrugging his bony shoulders. Anya wonders if she can see a knowing look in his milky eyes, but she convinces herself that she’s just being paranoid.

She addresses the crowd with insincere sincerity. “If it is a portal, at least I know that my son will be safe. I hope and pray then that he might find his Yuuri and return to Andalasia safely.” She pauses, scanning their faces for reactions. Most seem less scandalised before and more relieved — their beloved crown prince was presumably okay wherever he may be and he was likely to return with his fiancé at some point.

“I can only apologise, but evidently, the wedding will no longer take part today. When my son returns, I will personally write out a new set of invitations for the rescheduled date.” The guests all looked satisfied with this and the crowd around the well gradually dispersed until Anya was left alone with the very man she’d charged with keeping her stepson from meeting a partner.

So here she was, at the doorway of her room, and she _still_ didn’t have her alone time. Georgi had followed her up to her room and was now hovering nervously in the corridor outside. Anya walks into her kitchenette, swaying her hips. She knows he’s watching her closely. She also knows how great she looks in her scoop back slinky red dress.

“Would you like a drink, Georgi?” Anya reaches into the cupboard for two large wine glasses. The question she’s asking is one to which she already knows the answer. 

He stutters a yes and takes a few tentative steps into the room. Anya picks up the decanter from her worktop and pours them two generous glasses of a fine 2012 vintage merlot. Leaving a glass for Georgi, she takes up her own and walks over to her desk. She vaguely notices Georgi enter the room properly to pick up his glass and can sense him behind her as she whispers the latin spell that awakens her enchanted gazing ball. Immediately, the ball is filled with an image of Yuuri stood at a balcony singing of how he awaits Edouard’s arrival and his rescue.

“Wouldn’t he just _love_ to come crawling back here and steal my crown! To cast me aside like royal rubbish… Perhaps Edouard won’t find him…” And that’s when Anya has her lightbulb moment. Pulling a compact out of her clutch purse, she checks her lipstick.

“Oh, I do wish that there were someone who cared enough for me to go after Edouard…” Anya turns in her chair to face Georgi. He puts his glass down and leans on the desk with one arm, close enough to Anya for her to feel his body heat. “… Oh, a man like that, so strong and brave…” She looks straight into his eyes, resting her hand over his.

“I’d do _anything_ for him.”

And for a moment, neither of them move. The eye contact is intense. Anya can tell from the way Georgi swallows that he’s thinking about all of the things ‘anything’ could entail.

“Never fear, my queen. I will stop him!”

Georgi threads his fingers through Anya’s and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze before running out of the door. She takes a sip of wine and smiles. Sure, she hadn’t counted on Edouard being so keen to go after Yuuri, but if there’s one think you can rely on, it’s a man’s eagerness to please when the reward is a woman’s body.

*

“Let’s close it up, boys!”

The city maintenance workers are ready to close up the uncovered manhole when Prince Edouard and Phichit emerge at speed. Edouard stick his sword in the face of the first man he sees.

“Your name, peasant! Quickly!”

The man stutters. “Uh, um, A-Arty.”

“My beloved was snatched away from me — tell me, Arty, did you have some wicked hand in this plot?” Arty would laugh, because honestly this guy is dressed like a pantomime prince and talks like a Disney character, but then there’s something distinctly unfunny about the way the man presses the blade of his sword against his neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear!”

“I seek a beautiful man. My other half, my one coquette; the answer to my love’s duet.”

Arty rubs the back of his neck. “I’d like one of those too.”

Edouard smiles, withdrawing his sword. “Then keep a wary eye out, Arty.” He looks over to his left shoulder where Phichit is now perching. “Come along, Phichit!”

“I’m ready when you are,” Phichit replies. Or that’s what he would say if he could speak. To Phichit’s horror, his voice comes out in a high pitched squeak. He tries again, but not a single word comes out. So he can’t speak in this realm. Great.

Prince Edouard notices none of this as he runs into the traffic, cars screeching to a halt and horns blaring all around them until he reaches a bus pulling into a stop. Only Edouard doesn’t see a bus, of course, he sees a gigantic metal beast. He’s come to this realm to find Yuuri, but he supposes that he can spare some time to liberate these peasants from the wicked machine. Jumping onto the bonnet of a taxi to the roof of an SUV, he’s able to leap onto the top of the bus.

“You’ve met your match, you bellowing beast!” And with one flamboyant swoop of his sword, he thrusts the blade through the roof of the bus. The bus stops rumbling as the engine’s switched off and an irate bus driver emerges from the vehicle.

“Are you crazy? Nobody stabs my bus! I’ll tear you apart!” She mimes ripping Edouard limb from limb.

Across the road, the maintenance workers are attempting to close up the manhole for the second time since they’d been called out to the scene when _another_ one dazedly pops his head out, namely Georgi. Arty sighs and stretches out a hand to the man in the manhole. This dude is wearing a similar jacket to the guy with the sword. What is it with people emerging from the sewers in full costume? Did they get lost on their way to a convention?

“I don’t suppose you’re looking for a beautiful man too, huh?” The rest of the workmen chuckle

Georgi raises an eyebrow sardonically. “How did you know?”

Arty doesn’t really know what to say to that and he shuffles from foot to foot until Georgi spots the prince stood on top of a bus. Thank goodness, he hadn’t managed to get terribly far before he’d had a chance to catch up with him. Although by the looks of the woman screaming up at him, it seemed as though he’d already gotten himself into trouble. Typical. It was just like Edouard cause a ruckus within five minutes of arriving in this realm.

Georgi weaves through the traffic until he reaches the shouting woman. “… Do you hear me? You get down here!”

Georgi reaches out to the woman in attempt to placate her. “I’m terribly sorry, madam. I know him — I’ll deal with him.”

Edouard beams down at them. “Georgi, old friend! How good to see you!”

She stops shouting at Edouard for a moment out of shock and turns to face Georgi. “You? A friend of his? Crazy tight-wearing…” She jabs a finger in Georgi’s face. “Come here and mess up my route? I’ll tear you both apart!”

Sensing that the situation was about to escalate out of control, Phichit closes his eyes and leaps into the woman’s hair.

“A rat! Get away from me!” She screams, patting her head.

Phichit runs across her shoulders and down her right arm. The woman violently jerks in attempt to throw him off. Georgi’s eyes widen. He hadn’t noticed Phichit going down the well with Edouard. That could be a problem. Phichit was a notoriously sharp-witted and vocal member of kingdom. If he somehow figured out that the Queen was conspiring against his best friend, he would no doubt cause Georgi all kinds of trouble.

He grabs Phichit with a firm grip, ignoring his protests. “Sire, may I suggest we seek elsewhere for your groom?”

“Excellent idea, Georgi! Lead the way!”

Georgi leads Edouard through the streets with Phichit firmly in his grasp until they reach a small, nondescript restaurant. Edouard isn’t sure how they were going to find Yuuri in a pokey restaurant, but he has to admit that he’s really rather hungry from all of the adventures of the day. He takes a seat near the counter and orders a club sandwich. 

“Georgi.”

Georgi whips his head round. Who was that? Edouard is admiring his reflection in a spoon, Phichit is silent in his fist and the other patrons mill around him without paying them much attention. 

“Georgi!” 

 _Anya_. The Queen must want to communicate with him, although he can tell now that the voice is coming from the kitchen. How is he supposed to get back there? He spots an apron hanging just by the counter. Placing Phichit on the table, he walks over to the counter and quickly dons the apron before anyone can catch him. He sees an empty tray on a table and grabs it before heading to the swing doors that lead into the kitchen. No one tries to stop him. Georgi breathes a sigh of relief.

“ _Georgi!”_

The lid of a large pot on the stove at the back of the kitchen begins to rattle furiously. That must be her. Georgi takes a washcloth from the worktop and takes off the heavy metal lid. When he looks into the broth, he’s greeted by the image of his queen rippling in the liquid.

“Your majesty?”

“Finally, finally! It’s boiling in here. Have you found him yet?”

Georgi knows that she means Yuuri and not the prince. “I’m afraid I haven’t, my lady.”

Queen Anya hisses. “We can’t risk my stepson bringing him back.”

“He shan’t, your majesty! I swear it!” A few of the other workers frown in confusion at him from across the kitchen. “Uhh… You are delicious, your majesty!” Georgi kisses his his fingers.

When he turns back to the pot, three shining red apples bob to the surface. “Poison apples… You want me too…” Georgi chooses to leave the words unsaid but they hang implicit in the air. 

“Don’t you see, darling? If there’s ever going to be a happily ever after for us…”

Those magic words are Georgi’s kryptonite. “Yes, of course, your majesty.” 

“Just one bite, that’s all it takes. One small bite to drag her down into a deep and troubled sleep. And when the hands of the clock strike 12, that precious little pretender to my thrown will be gone!”

“It shall be done, my lady. I swear it.”

Georgi picks up the apples with a ladle and slips them into his satchel before making a swift exit from the kitchen. Although when he returns to the seating area of the restaurant, he realises that Prince Edouard is alone. But Georgi could have sworn that he’d left Phichit on the table…

That’s when something — or rather, someone — crawls up his back onto his shoulder and leaps onto the table. It’s Phichit! He must have clung onto the strap of Georgi’s satchel as he went into the kitchen. That meant he knew everything… Georgi needs to stop him.

“Phichit! You’re back!”

“Sire, please, don’t listen to that insane little vermin. He’s probably eaten some bad nuts. We should probably put him down for his own good.”

Phichit responds to this with a string of expletives. Or, again, he would have if he had the ability to speak. Instead he just lets out some indignant squeaks. 

“Georgi, please. He clearly has something he wants to say. Let him speak.”

“But, sire! He’s delirious, he’s-”

Edouard waves him quiet. “Go ahead, Phichit.”

Phichit takes a deep breath. This is his one chance to save his friend. “You watch me,” he manages to say, pointing at Edouard and then himself.

Edouard regards him intently. “Okay.”

Phichit points at Georgi. “Georgi?” Edouard guesses.

Excellent, we’re off to a good start. “Yes, Georgi…”

Edouard grins in realisation “Georgi’s glad to have me near!”

Oh boy. “No, no, no.” Phichit thinks for a moment. He's really going to have to be as explicit as possible if he has any chance of succeeding here. But that’s okay. Years of amateur dramatics and playing charades with Yuuri and the rest of the gang have prepared him for this moment. Phichit runs over to Edouard’s empty glass and pulls out a few of the ice cubes, using his teeth to shave off the excess ice and shape them into tiny spheres.

He begins to sing, doing his best impersonation of Yuuri singing. Edouard’s eyes light up with recognition. “I know this one!”

Phichit smiles. Maybe he’ll get it this time. Then he picks up the balls of ice and bends over like a crooked old lady. “Apple?”

He switches back to playing Yuuri. “Oh, okay!” Phichit takes a bite of the ice and chokes before collapsing to the ground. After a few seconds he leaps up again and curtseys. “Ta da!”

Georgi can feel a sweat breaking out on his forehead. This will not do, this will not do at all… Queen Anya would be furious if she found out that her plans had been thwarted by a chipmunk. He watches Edouard, who’s stroking his chin in consideration.

“I’ve got it!” he exclaims. “You feel you’d die without me here!”

Oh for the love of Pete… Phichit rolls his eyes into the back of his head and Georgi lets out of relieved sigh. He’s never been quite so grateful for the prince’s unparalleled narcissism and stupidity. Georgi firmly takes up the treacherous chipmunk in his hand and beckons Edouard to follow him out of the establishment.

“I wonder, sire, if we might cover more ground separately. If you go buy yourself, I can take the rodent.” Phichit squirms in displeasure at this. When they get back to Andalasia, he swears he’s going to give this guy a peace of his mind…

“An inspired plan, Georgi! Where do you propose I look?”

Georgi scans the crowd until he locks eyes on a dark haired man in a suit riding past them in a carriage. He points him out to Edouard. “Look, sire, over there! It’s Yuuri!”

Edouard looks to where Georgi is pointing and gasps. “Run to him, sire! Hurry! There’s not a moment to loose.”

Georgi watches Edouard take off, pounding down the street. He chuckles to himself and shoves Phichit into his satchel. That should at least buy him some time. If he manages to pull this off, Queen Anya will be so impressed that she'll immediately fall for him and perhaps then he'll finally get his chance to be with her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all enjoyed being reunited with those characters i introduced way back in the first chapter (and subsequently abandoned)! if possible, i'm going to do my best to get chapter 5 out some time this week too because i go away this weekend for a fortnight and won't be able to do any more writing until mid-August.
> 
> thank you to everyone who's read this so far - especially those who've left comments and/or kudos. as always, i'd love to hear what you think. x


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